Surrender to the Roman (7 page)

But in that moment when his guard had fallen and she’d seen beyond his anger, she’d felt something different. Her intuition whispered that he knew the kind of man Tertullian was—perhaps better than she.

He understood something of her position, if not her pain. She refused to admit that she’d wanted him to use his hands, but not for punishment. Rather, to soothe her worries away, as he had after she’d been attacked in the streets.

Pulling a wool blanket across her body as she reclined, she accepted her blunder. She’d lost her temper and would have to prove herself in one way or another to regain some measure of his trust.

Flora would laugh circles around her attempts at gardening. Ademeni might not see the city streets for months. An impossible task lay at her feet. He could not know what he’d asked.

She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for dreamless sleep. Tomorrow she’d have to regain the ground she’d lost. Quite literally.

“Surely Trajan will install you at the highest levels.”

In the quiet haze of a new day, Lucia’s words echoed off the stone tiles of the kitchen. Marcus had risen early and meant to bring some of his work to the house, where he could keep a watchful eye on the progress Ademeni made in the garden.

And keep his curious daughter otherwise occupied.

When Lucia had brought up his next post, she’d made clear where she thought his career should lead. “He should appoint you to lead the Praetorian.”

He’d considered the position over the years, could even agree that Trajan might entertain the idea. Others held him in high esteem and might naturally assume he’d want the post.

But there was nothing natural about that particular position. “The Praetorian Guard is no place for a man like me.”

“The history of deceit and corruption in the Praetorian is exactly why Trajan needs a loyal, honest man.”

“I can be more useful elsewhere. I’ve been pondering options since leaving Dacia. When Trajan returns, I will seek an audience with him.”

Across the wooden table, Lucia wove her fingers together. “And what if he already has plans for you?”

Marcus grimaced and bought time to think while he chewed a handful of dates. “The emperor always has plans. The trick is to make him believe your idea is his idea.”

“And what is yours?”

Hesitating, he studied Lucia’s pained expression. She did not want him to leave Rome. To leave Callia. Perhaps to leave her, as age advanced. Again.

“I could stay in Rome, retire,” he offered.

Her eyebrows shot upward. “And what would you do?”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He’d never been anything but a soldier. That he’d lived this long and risen this far served as a testament to his survival skills.

He would never leave the army.

Lucia smiled in return and laid her hands over his in the middle of the table. “Have your audience with Trajan. He has given you fair guidance in the past.”

A soft voice sounded in the distance, Ademeni’s feminine tones blurring the straight line of his future. He glanced behind him, down the hall, hopeful for a glimpse of her. When he looked again at Lucia, her eyes narrowed.

“And what are you doing with this young woman?”

“Nothing.” He straightened. “After what she did last night, I should sell her today.”

“But you won’t.” The matron laughed, a gentle sound that smoothed his ruffled feathers. “I know you better than you think. I see how you look at her, and she at you.”

“Is that why you give her Julia’s trinkets?” He deflected her perceptive comments. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“I hoped you would.”

He sat up straight. “Why?”

“Did she not look beautiful?” Lucia paused as she chose her words. “You haven’t moved past Julia’s death. She’s been gone for five years. You’ve barely stopped long enough to realize she’s not here. Though you don’t say so, I know you will ask Trajan for a new post, away from Rome. You will leave what you cannot stand.”

“I have to consider every option.” His heart strained with the lie. Julia’s memory smothered him in this house. Lucia was right—he hadn’t planned to stop traveling at all. Perhaps he wanted to outrun his guilt.

“Her death was not your fault.”

Lucia’s whispered forgiveness bore into his heart. Julia’s death, no, but her life. Marcus dropped his bravado to ask, “Why did she go to Dacia, Lucia? I did not send for her. Camp is no place for a woman.”

Lucia shook her head. “Only the gods know what possessed her. I begged her to stay but when she found herself with child, nothing would stop her. She hoped you would give up your post and settle for life in Rome, maybe become a politician. You are drawn to stubborn women, Marcus Cordovis.”

He ran his hands over his face, out of arguments. “It’s too early in the day for such talk.”

“Well said,” Lucia agreed. “But one piece of advice?”

“What is it?”

“Take Ademeni into your bed. The comfort will do you both good. She’s beautiful, and she has a soft heart for you. It is common enough.”

Her suggestion took him by surprise. “She would rather kill me.”

“You know what I’m talking about, or you would have either sold her or taken her for your own already. She’s had ample opportunity to take your life, but it seems she’d rather have Tertullian’s.”

Marcus remembered searching Ademeni’s animated face in the flickering light of the cellar. She was the first woman to affect him in years, but he dared not admit any feeling for her. Doing so amounted to weakness. “I sympathize because she does not deserve her fate.”

“Who does?” Lucia shrugged. “What have you to say about the gods’ business? Are you one of them? Or have you become a Christian instead?”

“No, no.” He shook his head and raised his hands with a smile that faded. “I cannot force her to me. She is not a whore.”

“Of course not, but consider that you may be of comfort to her, as well. I am not encouraging a marriage, only companionship.” Lucia nodded with a bow of her head. “Do as you wish. I’m just an old woman of no use to you.”

Marcus grinned. He saw through her too. “You’ve come to care for her.”

“No more than you, but she is not unlike my daughter in some ways.” She hid a smile. “Whatever you decide, tell no one of your plans. Rome is filled with envious and ambitious men—a dangerous combination.”

He cautioned himself, even against Lucia’s motherly advice. She had her own reasons for creating an interest in Ademeni, yet her bold permission had taken him off guard. She had dealt with her daughter’s death in a way he could not yet fathom.

And her warning did not fall on deaf ears. He needed to tread carefully—with everyone. If Lucia wanted him to stay in Rome, she still had enough political power to make that happen. As for Tertullian, a change in status with the army was long overdue.

* * *

Ademeni sank her fingers into the damp earth and choked back disgust. If her father could see her now, he would not hesitate to wallop her. Or laugh until he cried.

In the past two days, a virtual forest had appeared as if conjured by the high priest of Roman vegetation. Plants, small trees, vines and other greenery taunted her from the sunny courtyard. When she planted one, three more arrived, waiting for her attention.

Marcus Cordovis meant for her to finish the job. She felt his constant presence behind her, where he sat just inside the archway of one of the smaller rooms where he’d erected his camp desk.

From there, he not only directed Trajan’s return, he also dictated her comings and goings. He inspected her progress two or three times each day.

And he kept Callia occupied far from her.

His low voice rumbled behind her while she bent to plant grapevines along the back wall. Annoying how she could never quite hear his words, yet the sound of his voice comforted her. She found herself longing for the very man she’d sworn to kill.

The tide of confusion washed in at sunset every day and kept her awake at night. No matter how she willed herself to feel differently, his good qualities outshone the bad. If they were not here, in this house, but on the battlefield, she would feel differently.

She dragged her wrist across her brow and sat back to inspect her amateurish day’s work. How anything grew in this grainy soil was beyond her knowledge. No wonder Rome ranged far and wide. They were probably very hungry people.

“Julia used to keep the gardens spotless.” Lucia stepped through the drift of Marcus’s voice. “She made it look easy. She had a gift.”

“A gift I do not possess,” Ademeni muttered. Her back ached, and she straightened. “I wish I did.”

Lucia handed her a cup of water. “Julia had a great many gifts, but then, I am biased. She attracted butterflies somehow. I don’t remember what she used.”

Ademeni gulped the water, her interest rising. The older woman seemed in the mood to discuss her daughter, and she sensed an opportunity. “Maybe Marcus remembers?”

Lucia smiled. “He was one of the butterflies.”

“Oh.” Ademeni’s face heated. So Julia had entertained many suitors. “How was he selected from so many?”

“I met Marcus quite by accident, at my nephew’s home. My dog escaped, and he rescued her.” Lucia slid her a twinkling glance. “He made quite an impression, even as a young man. His father was a man of some stature, and had afforded Marcus a good military education.”

Ademeni flushed again and took another swallow of water. Her first impression of him had been that of a conquering warrior, larger than the mountains. Frightening and arousing at the same time.

“Would you believe Julia had never noticed him?” Fondling the leaves of the vine, Lucia laughed. “But once she did, completing the arrangement took no time at all.”

Customary arranged marriages, as they had in Dacia.

“Were you married?” Lucia asked.

The surprising question jolted Ademeni back in time. Her father’s face came into sharp focus, his command ringing in her ears.
“You will marry the man I have chosen for you.”

“Yes,” she answered. “For all of three days.”

“Three days?”

“He died—robbed on the road north, where he made his home. I was to follow a few days later. I received the news as I packed.”

Lucia’s light touch on the shoulder felt comforting. “How terrible for you.”

Ademeni blinked. Terrible? She’d barely known him, had spent a handful of confused nights in his bed. “It seems long ago.”

“It must.”

An uncomfortable truth lay between them. Lucia was treating her as an equal. Ademeni took advantage of the moment. “How did Julia die?”

Lucia’s kind smile collapsed into lines of confused grief. “She was as strong-willed as you, and very young. Marcus’s military life did not suit her needs, and when she learned she was to have a child, she followed him. She fled this house in the middle of the night. She knew I would try to stop her, but she somehow believed that her news—delivered personally—would force Marcus home.”

Ademeni shook her head. The wife did not know her husband.

“She refused to come home and he refused to give up his command,” Lucia continued. “She died after a difficult childbirth—in Dacia.”

A small gasp escaped Ademeni. She had not known that particular piece of the puzzle. So Julia had died—and Callia had been born—in her homeland?

Before she could form another question, the long shadow of Marcus Cordovis slid across her. She turned to him, caught. In silence, he inspected her handiwork with a cursory nod to Lucia.

She swallowed around a painful lump in her throat. Had he overheard their conversation and sensed her digging for information?

While his sad gaze lingered on her face, his voice sounded tired and hoarse. She didn’t know whether he spoke to her or Lucia when he said, “That’s enough for today.”

* * *

After everyone had taken to bed, Marcus sat on one of the chairs beside the collecting pool. A soft wind swept through the courtyard, easing the misery that clung to his spirit.

He’d never calculated on so much talk of Julia when he’d decided to work in his home. Shortsighted, he’d seen only a way to manage Ademeni.

To spend time near her.

He pulled in a deep breath, the earthy aroma of turned soil relaxing his worries. He smiled. Despite the initial clumsiness of her efforts, the gardens were regaining pleasant form.

And what an inquisitive woman she’d become. Looking for some new weapon with which to wound him, no doubt. Lucia could hardly be blamed for speaking about her daughter, yet he wished she’d been more discreet.

How long before Ademeni learned that she connived to bring them together? Then what? He closed his eyes, his pulse thrumming with the wild imaginings of what might happen next.

A rustle behind him sent his hand to his dagger. He whirled to find Ademeni, wrapped in a woolen blanket, standing behind him. Her eyes held a strange blend of fear, humor and interest.

“Are you not well,
dominus?
” she asked, moving closer.

Why was she up at this hour? She couldn’t actually be concerned with his health. “I did not mean to wake you.”

“Oh, yes,” she said, offering a small smile, “the jostling of your mighty thoughts has disturbed my peaceful slumber. Do you require anything?”

“No.” He tracked her as she circled to a stop beside him. His pulse raced when the wind loosed long strands of dark hair. “You need not stay for my benefit.”

She paused, biting her lower lip. “May I stay for mine?”

“That depends.” His eyes traversed her body as he sized up his opponent. “Do you still wish to kill me?”

That strange, familiar conflict warred in her expression, yet her answer sounded as if it came from a tired old woman. “You are my enemy. You hold me against my will in your home.”

He bowed his head and inspected his hands, then locked eyes with her again. “True.”

“Yet…” she started, then faltered, finding a seat at the edge of the pool, near his feet. “I see that my existence is not as painful as some.”

His heart constricted with a flash of memory. “Then that young woman with Tertullian…she is truly your sister?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “One of many, but we are of the same mother. She does not have my strength.”

He shook his head, sensing where this conversation might lead. “I cannot do anything for her. Tertullian will tire of her eventually, and her life will become less difficult.”

Docile Ademeni burst to life, her argument spewing like lava from a volcano. “But you are his commander—order him to stop mistreating her.”

He studied her face with calm detachment, searching for his answer, impressing it upon her by leaning forward. “I do not command his home.”

“Then bring her here.” Ademeni moved to her knees, surprising him with the strength of her feelings. She stopped short of touching him, of begging.

While he agreed that Tertullian had become a brute, he had to show her the scope of the entire situation. “How many sisters did you say you have, Ademeni?”

“Many,” she repeated. “My father had several wives.”

“I cannot have the whole of Dacia’s royal family in my house.” The words pained his heart and mind, and he felt his loyalty shift. “My house cannot sustain more slaves, and you of all people must understand how suspect something like that would make me, politically.”